


A Family's First

by Star_Going_Supernova



Series: A Creator's Heart verse [3]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Attempted Murder, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas fic, Dad!Henry (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Monster-Form!Bendy, Tis the Season to accept the objectively scarier form of your inky son, happiness, he's also emotionally scarred and is worried that he's a monster, is strong with this one, one of those things is not like the other, oooh Bendy's pissed, the
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 10:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13144566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Going_Supernova/pseuds/Star_Going_Supernova
Summary: This Christmas Special can be summed up by one sentence: Henry really loves his inky children, and is more than happy to show them that.





	A Family's First

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays, whichever fits your fancy! I hope everyone’s having a good day, and that any family you might be visiting doesn’t get on your nerves too much. Murder is only very rarely the answer! ;P 
> 
> Enjoy this extra long Christmas Special— no seriously, someone explain to me what happened, how did this hit 5,000 words, I planned for 3,000 max— and try not to freak out the family with any strange noises you might make.
> 
> (see end notes for spoiler-y warnings, because i actually have warnings for this supposed-to-be-fluffy fic)

It wasn’t the most honest work, but times were hard and sometimes a man had to take desperate measures just to get by. Scoping out Christmas shoppers to follow home and rob blind had stopped making Aaron’s gut twist with guilt years ago. 

His partner in crime, David, nudged him hard under his ribs. “How’s about that one?” He nodded discretely at a man with a loaded cart. 

Aaron whistled lowly at the sight. “Must have half a dozen little brats if he’s gettin’ so much.”

David snorted as they slowly wandered after their target, making sure to just barely keep him in sight. “You kidding? He’s too young to have that many. Bet he’s only got one that’s spoiled rotten.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. But how’s a chump like him gonna pay for all that junk?”

They exchanged glances. “Inheritance,” they said together, grinning. Rich young heirs usually filled their homes with all sorts of expensive junk that could be sold easily. 

The man shopped for a little while longer, filling his cart with such variety that Aaron started doubting the single child idea. Toys for girls and boys, coloring books, building blocks, picture books, young adult novels, even some clothes that Aaron couldn’t find rhyme or reason to— it was like the man either had an orphanage of kids to buy for, or didn’t know what his own kid would want. 

Even the cashier went a bit wide-eyed as she rung up the man’s purchases. Though they were standing too far away to hear what she asked him— probably if he was sure he actually wanted all this— whatever his response was made her beam at him and cheerfully wish him a Merry Christmas. 

Aaron and David followed the man out to his car, a nice but modest make, and waited in their own. 

Keeping the model and color in mind, they carefully tailed him, maintaining a safe distance. 

After fifteen minutes or so, Aaron shifted uncomfortably. “This is real outta the way, man. Do ya think he’s onto us?”

David decreased their speed even more, allowing their target to get a little farther ahead on the otherwise empty stretch of road. “I dunno. Usually when folks suspect somethin’ they’ll take a bunch’a turns and crap. He could just have a real nice place that’s all secluded.”

Aaron nodded. “I sure hope so. Make it even easier for us.”

Finally, after another ten minutes, the man’s car pulled into a parking lot. 

“What’s this?” David asked, driving by. 

Staring out the window, Aaron watched the man stop near the doors of what seemed to be an old, abandoned building. The sign, though heavily damaged, read _Joey Drew Studios_.

“Man, you think he lives there?” Aaron asked as David pulled over a suitable distance away. 

“I guess we’re ’bout to find out. That lot was empty, so he’s gonna be alone at least. We can raid the whole place once we take ’im down.”

The road remained deserted as they trudged through the snow back towards the abandoned building, armed and ready.  
  
“What sorta weirdo can afford to buy a whole bunch of toys and stuff but lives in this hellhole?” Aaron kicked at the ground, fiddling with his knife. 

David snorted. “A weirdo that’s about to fill our pockets, so the least we can do is kill ’im quickly.” He briefly brandished his revolver. “If you can’t get a good swipe at his neck, I’ll do a headshot. You ready?”

They passed by his car on their way towards the entrance. Aaron frowned. Despite the large number of bags the man had, it was already completely unloaded. If he was alone, he shoulda still been making trips. 

It was the work of only a few minutes to pick the lock, and then they quietly eased into the building. Strangely enough, it didn’t look nearly as abandoned on the inside as it did on the outside. In fact, it almost looked properly lived in.

“Y’hear that?” David whispered to him. 

Aaron strained to listen in the eerie silence. “Voices,” he realized. “Multiple. And… music, I think.”

“Our man ain’t as alone as we’d been hopin’ for. Ah well, there’s nothing for it. We take out anyone that crosses our path.” 

Yeah, it was dirty work sometimes, but tough luck. Survival of the fittest, and that meant the people with guns came out on top over bratty kids. 

They followed the sounds of life through the hallways, which seemed to get nicer and more well-used the farther in they went. David smacked him silently across the chest when they finally came to a door that was partially opened, spilling music and laughter out of it. 

Aaron pressed up close to the crack to peek inside. Though he couldn’t see anyone, the room was very obviously an expensively furnished library. _Jackpot_ , he thought, grinning wide. 

“I’m going to go check how Alice and the others are doing in the kitchen,” they heard someone— probably their man— say, followed by footsteps rapidly approaching the door.

David nudged his back, and Aaron readied himself to go straight for the throat as soon as he had a clear shot. 

The door swung open into the room, revealing a man slightly shorter than Aaron, with brown hair and blue eyes, which widened in surprise at them. Other than that, he didn’t seem to visibly react to their presence, and that made Aaron smile smugly as he reached for the man. Poor guy was probably paralyzed with fear and didn’t know what to do with himself.

These young people always thought themselves to be invulnerable, right up until the moment someone proved they weren’t. You might think that older folks would be better and easier targets, but most of them had either gone through the war, or had built up hidden strength from good old fashioned labor. 

Good thing this guy wasn’t like that.

• • • • • 

After a day of last minute Christmas shopping, Henry had been eager to get home, where he gathered a group of his toons in the library to teach them how to wrap presents. Everyone had been split into two sets, the first of which would be with Henry wrapping the others’ presents, while the rest would make and frost Christmas cookies in the kitchen with Alice, who had really taken to baking. 

Then they would switch, and repeat the process. 

Had Henry been expecting to be faced with a total stranger when he opened the library door? No, no he had not. Strangers— mush less strangers with _knives_ — were not part of the Christmas plans he’d made with his toons. 

The man that lunged at him, the one with the knife, had a very smug air about him, like he was expecting to kill Henry easily. Ha! He might not look like he’d lived a long life, with plenty of rough patches and hard moments and trials, but that ritual hadn’t taken away his memories of such things. 

“Hide!” he yelled at his toons as he let himself drop backwards, grabbing the man’s armed hand even as he yanked the man off balance, bringing him down on top of Henry’s raised knee. 

His attacker gasped and wheezed, and didn’t have the chance to struggle as Henry popped his knife-bearing wrist backwards. The man screamed breathlessly, and while he was distracted, Henry slid his free arm into the space between them and jabbed his elbow into his windpipe. 

After that, Henry almost carelessly flipped the man over, not even slightly winded himself. 

He looked up directly into the short barrel of a revolver being aimed at his face. 

Many things ran through his mind in the following split second, none of them appropriate to repeat, save for the loudest of them all: _my poor toons_. 

His about-to-be-murderer’s finger seemed to tighten around the trigger in slow motion. All Henry registered then was a heart-breaking, gut-wrenching cry from behind him. 

A blur of black descended over Henry, and he recognized the feel of arms wrapping around him, pulling him up into a wide chest. His first thought was that it was either Boris or one of the few human-toons, because none of the others could be big enough to so completely engulf Henry in a protective embrace. 

The gun went off, and the body between him and the stranger gave a little twitch but otherwise didn’t react. 

And that’s when Henry’s knowledge kicked in, pushing that initial thought aside. It was only once, and it was quite a while ago, but you never really forget the first and last time you hugged a massive, eight-foot-tall ink demon. 

Growling fiercely, Bendy pulled back and looked down at Henry, ink obscuring his eyes. Henry stared up at him, mouth open slightly in shock. 

Reassured that Henry was okay, Bendy gave him a little head-butt, the deep rumble never ceasing, and unwound his arms from Henry’s body. 

Henry watched him stand and turn to face the pale, quivering man with the gun. 

There was a very obvious bullet hole in Bendy’s back, and right in front of him, it slowly began to close, forcing the little lump of metal out. It clinked to the floor, harmless, and Bendy’s ink was left unmarred. 

With a shriek, the man tore out of the room and down the hall. Bendy snarled and lunged after him. Henry took a moment to imagine how that might feel, to be chased by an angry Bendy in his imposing, off-model form. He shuddered. 

Ignoring the slight trembling traveling through his body like shivers, Henry finally turned to the first man, who was still struggling to get his breath back. 

“Henry?”

Several heads poked up or around the various couches. He offered them a weak smile. “I’m fine, guys,” he said.

A scream echoed from down the corridor. 

Henry winced as he pushed himself to his feet, only a little wobbly. “I’m made of tougher stuff than that,” he told them. 

One of the former Searchers peeked out further. “But that’s a knife.”

“Yeah,” Henry said, staring down at it. “Why don’t you all sit tight for a bit, okay?” 

The screaming cut off abruptly. Everyone sat back down, out of sight.

After delivering a solid punch to the man’s face, nearly knocking him out entirely, Henry dragged him by the ankles back to the front of the studio. Though he didn’t come across Bendy, he did find the the other man, not far from the exit. Or rather, the body of the other man. 

It took time and patience, but eventually he got them both outside and to the other end of the parking lot, as far from the building as possible without entering the surrounding woods and fields. 

“You’ve put me in a difficult position,” Henry said, almost conversationally, to the man who’d attacked him. He was barely conscious, so there was really no telling how much he was understanding. “You see, I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why you targeted me, or the studio, or whatever it was that brought you here, and in any other circumstance, I’d be happy to turn you in. Somethin’ tells me this wasn’t a first time for you.”

He stepped away from the two men, the knife resting harmlessly on the dead man’s chest. Henry was silent for a moment, turning the revolver over in his hands. 

“But the thing is, you saw my toons. And I’m sure that, if you thought it might help lessen your own punishment, you’d go on and on about the unnatural creatures in the old animation studio, and you’d tell anyone who would listen about the one who turned into a ‘monster’ and killed your friend.”

“You think you can get away with this?” the man asked. His voice was hoarse and wavered badly. It wasn’t so fun being on the wrong side of a weapon, was it? 

With a grim smile, Henry explained, “I’m absolutely abysmal at lighting the big fireplace in the library. Terrible at it, really, and none of the toons like doing it because fire is scary, so back when the cold weather started hitting us, Bendy— who, by the way, is not, has never been, and will never be a _monster_ — showed me a nifty little spell. You’d be surprised how useful it is to be able to set anything— and I mean _anything_ — on fire with just a few simple words.”

The man’s eyes only had time to widen a tiny bit before Henry raised the gun and pulled the trigger, killing him instantly. Henry tossed the revolver to the ground between the two bodies.

In the ringing silence, he said to the open air and gently falling snow, “I was willing to die for them, and I promised to protect them, so it makes sense that I’d be willing to kill to protect them.” He spoke the brief incantation, adding the right modifiers to make the fire burn hot and fast and destroy that which fueled it. Within minutes, there was no sign that his would-be murderers had ever even been there. 

Henry gave the night a little nod, as though in thanks for keeping him company, and then headed back to the studio and his toons. 

• • • • • 

Upon his return, he found Alice and Boris waiting in the room beyond the entrance for him.

“Henry!” Alice cried as he shut the door behind him. “Are you all right? The others told us what happened, and— they didn’t think you’d been hurt, but they weren’t sure.”

Smiling slightly, Henry said, “I’m fine, Alice. A little shaken, to be honest, but there’s not a scratch on me. I don’t think he was prepared to actually fight someone.” He picked her up as soon as he finished removing his coat and dropped it onto one of the hooks in the wall. Boris tucked himself under his free arm. 

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “I promise.”

Alice nodded against his shoulder but didn’t move away. 

Boris leaned back, frowning. “But Henry… those men saw toons. Won’t they, y’know, tell people about us?”

Very seriously, Henry said, “None of you will ever have to worry about them.” His meaning must have gotten across, because Boris sagged in relief and settled back into their little group hug, and Alice sighed and relaxed in Henry’s hold. 

Henry let them have that peace for a minute or two before asking, “Where is everybody?”

“Sent them to bed,” Alice mumbled. She was probably ready to drop off, too. “They’re pro’bly still waitin’ for you to say goodnight, though.”

“Let’s get you settled in first.” Henry started down the hallway that led to everyone’s bedrooms. Before he made it more than a dozen steps, Alice began snoring softly. “Whoops,” Henry whispered, just barely managing to snag her falling halo out of the air.

Boris, easily keeping pace with him, laughed. Just to be silly, Henry set the dimly glowing ring on top of his own head, though he’d hardly let go of it before it snapped up to hover over him. 

Henry blinked rapidly. “I didn’t think it could do that,” he said quietly, glancing at Boris, who shrugged.

“It can’t,” was all the toon said, even as the glow increased dramatically.

Opening his mouth, Henry mentally paused, and then shook his head. “Okay.” 

He pushed through Alice’s door a moment later and tucked her in while Boris waited at the threshold. When he instinctually looked up to grab her halo, it followed the top of his head, which meant he sent Boris into a fit of giggles as he spun around like a dog chasing his tail, the halo always just out of reach.

Only when he calmed down enough to actually think about it did he catch it, by holding still and blindly grasping above him. 

Leaving the halo on her nightstand, once more in its dimmer ‘sleep mode,’ Henry closed the door. 

It didn’t take more than five minutes after that to see Boris off to dreamland as well, and then Henry went through the rest of the toons, reassuring them all that he was fine, they were safe, and that they’d still have a good Christmas in the morning. 

And finally, he finished and was able to focus on the one thing that he’d been thinking about since he’d nearly been shot. 

Since neither Alice nor Boris had mentioned Bendy, Henry knew his little devil darlin’ was probably hiding somewhere. Luckily, he knew all of Bendy’s favorite places where he could retreat from the world. 

Henry found him on his second try, hunched underneath Henry’s own old work desk. 

Wordlessly, Henry slid down the longer wall next to his station. He listened to Bendy’s quiet little sniffles for a minute before saying, “Talk to me, bud.”

“They were going to kill you. You almost _died_.” 

Henry didn’t interrupt him, just waited patiently for Bendy to work through his thoughts. 

“And I—” he hiccuped— “I became that _thing_ again. That _monster_. And I killed that man.” He went silent for a moment. “I don’t know how I feel right now.”

Leaning forward, Henry held out his hand until Bendy took it and allowed Henry to pull him out and onto Henry’s lap. “Well,” he said, hugging Bendy close, “I did almost die. That happened, and I doubt any of us will forget that for a while. And yes, you took your other form, but you aren’t a monster. Not now, not ever. Ah!” He covered Bendy’s mouth before he could protest. “I refuse to take any objections on that matter. My word is law in this case, kiddo.”

Bendy nodded hesitantly. If Henry knew Bendy at all— which, yeah, he did— they’d probably have to have a more in-depth discussion about that soon.

“Lastly, the man.” Henry took a deep breath and rested his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. Without much thought, he started rocking his body. “Tell me what about that bothers you.” 

Shuddering, Bendy whispered, “I don’t want the others to think… I’ve killed a lot of people, Henry. Good people, ones that didn’t deserve to die. But, we all agreed on that together. This was— this was all me. I’m not— I don’t want to… I don’t want you to think…”

When it didn’t seem like Bendy was going to continue, Henry asked, “Do you want to know where those two men are right now?”

Bendy nodded against his chest. Gently taking Bendy’s head in his hands, Henry leaned down until they were forehead to forehead. 

“I killed the other man myself, kiddo, and then I burned the bodies. I won’t ever think you’re a monster for protecting me.”

Eyes wide, Bendy asked, “You really killed him?” 

“Yep. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t let him go out there and tell people about you. I promised to protect you, that anyone who wanted to get to you would have to go through me first.” Henry gave him a little smile. “He tried to go through me, and he failed. Miserably.” 

Bendy laughed, a wet sound that was borderline a sob. He pushed forward through Henry’s hands and buried his face in the crook of Henry’s neck, arms wrapped tightly around him. 

“All right,” Henry said, standing up. “It’s time for bed. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, and I think we could both use some good rest. You’re coming with me, though, bud. No nightmares allowed on Christmas Eve.” 

Though Bendy would fall asleep even before Henry reached his bedroom, he would later stir just long enough to register the protective embrace he was trapped in, Henry not having let him go even in sleep, and he would snuggle closer to the strong heartbeat pounding out a slow, hypnotizing rhythm. With a content smile on his face, he would let the sound of Henry’s life lull him back into a peaceful slumber. 

• • • • •

The next morning, the library fell into a state of chaos as presents were opened left and right. Everyone was wearing something Christmasy, from reindeer antler headbands and Santa hats, to sweaters with silly designs. A soft undertone of holiday music filled the room. 

Bendy sat in Henry’s favorite armchair, a warm mug of hot chocolate held in his hands. On the floor just in front of him, Henry was showing a trio of toons how to play a game. 

After a good night’s rest, Bendy felt much better. He still found himself glancing at the door every few minutes, but he knew that Henry had taken extra security measures to make sure they all felt safe.

Trying to distract himself from those sorts of thoughts, Bendy looked at the big tree in the corner. They had decorated it the day after Thanksgiving, just as Henry had promised. They’d spent hours wrapping it in lights and ribbons and popcorn-and-cranberry garlands, and then they’d filled the branches with ornaments that Henry had brought back from his first and final trip home to retrieve his belongings. 

It looked beautiful, with a delicate ceramic angel topping it, her head bowed in prayer. Bendy smiled, remembering how Henry had lifted him up to place it there. 

“You doin’ okay?” Alice asked, appearing next to him without warning. 

Looking down into his mug, Bendy nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think so.” 

She smiled at him. “Good. What’d Henry get you?” 

“He said I’ll have to wait until a little later,” Bendy said, frowning playfully. 

“All right, guys!” 

They turned to see Henry standing, smiling at all of them. 

“I have a special little something I put together, as a present for everyone. So if you’ll follow me…” 

He led them through the corridors, to their favorite fixed-up screening room. Once all the toons had taken a seat on the beanbags and couches, he started up the projector. 

Bendy couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as background music with bells started playing, and the static on the screen resolved into a picture.

It was a little cartoon Bendy, rolling a snowball in front of him. He pushed it as it got bigger, and the shot seamlessly followed him to the base of a snowman. Waiting for him was Alice, who helped lift the next piece onto the bottom. A moment later, Buddy shoved a snowball almost as large as himself to their feet, and one of the human-toons followed after him to give the snowman its head.

A pair of twins brought them sticks for the arms, Boris passed Bendy a carrot for the nose, and the Prophet offered two matching buttons for eyes, while the Projectionist pressed mismatched ones into the snowman’s chest. 

More toons showed up with a ridiculously long scarf to wrap around its neck, while another drew a happy little smile on its face. 

They all stood back to look at the final product, right as the sun poked out from some clouds. 

The toons in the audience gasped as their cartoon counterparts’ happy snowman started to melt. 

Bendy twisted around to glance back at Henry, who was still leaning against the projector. He didn’t look distressed, so that must mean it wouldn’t end badly. He settled back into the couch cushions. 

In the animation, the toons reacted to something off-screen, and a moment later, the room filled with excited gasps as a toonified Henry joined them in looking at their ruined creation. The music changed to rise in anticipation as he pulled an animator’s brush from his pocket and walked around and around the snowman, dragging it up along its body in a spiral. 

When he reached the top, he gave it a little tap, and brightly glittering snowflakes burst out to rain down around the newly restored snowman. 

As the toons— both in the cartoon and real life— celebrated, toon-Henry drew an umbrella and fixed it to one of its branch hands, protecting it from the sun. The animation ended only after the snowman gave the audience a wink.

The screen went staticky before the words _Merry Christmas! With love, Henry_ wrote themselves into a black panel. 

Bendy watched Henry flick the lights on, only to turn and be swarmed by everyone. He ended up sitting down right there on the floor, laughing as the entire studio’s worth of toons squished closer in a group hug, some beaming speechlessly, a few tearing up a bit, and most laughing in delight. 

Still in his seat, Bendy waited as Henry accepted their thanks and told them to go have fun playing with their presents until dinner. Eventually, it was just the two of them. 

“You really made that just for us?” Bendy asked. 

Henry grabbed something from the projectionist’s chair and sat down next to Bendy. “Yep,” he said. “Been working on it since September.” He offered Bendy what he’d picked up. “Merry Christmas, bud.” 

It was a large book, the type that Bendy knew were most commonly used for scrapbooking. He flipped it open, curious to see what Henry had filled it with. 

On that first page, he came face to face with himself. The drawing was very crudely done, with shaky lines and imperfect coloring, and he wasn’t all that on-model, but it was still recognizably him. The next sheet had something similar, and so did the one after that, and the one after that, and so on.

Except— the farther Bendy went, the more he saw who he was now take shape. His bowtie, his gloves, his overall body, his eyes, his smile… bit by bit, he watched as he was put together. 

“What is this?” he asked. His first thought had been that these were old drawings done by fans or something, but he had a feeling it was more than that.

“It’s you,” Henry told him. “That is a book filled with every sketch and doodle I ever did of you, from the first time I drew you when I was seven. Look at where it ends.” 

Struck speechless, Bendy silently flipped to the final page. 

It was a character model sheet, with a great big **Approved** stamped into the corner. 

“That’s the reference for you that I included in the description of the cartoon we wanted to make. When we got the go-ahead from the network, I was so happy, Bendy, because I knew I was about to see you start coming to life, not just to me anymore, but to everyone.”

Bendy made a little wounded noise in the back of his throat. He carefully set the book aside, and then twisted to fall into Henry’s waiting arms. 

• • • • • 

That night, after a delicious dinner, Henry went to work picking up all the trash from the toons’ enthusiastic present opening. Everyone was off doing something, either watching the Christmas movie he’d set up in the screening room or playing with their gifts.

Or at least, that’s what he thought until the door opened. 

Henry looked up and nearly dropped the garbage bag he was tying off. Bendy stood there, tightly gripping the doorknob, in his off-model form. 

“I don’t know what happened,” he said in his deeper, grumbly voice. He tried to wipe the ink off his face, but it was just as useless an endeavor as before the ritual had restored him. 

With a gentle smile, Henry left the trash where it was and went to sit on one of the couches. “I think I might have an idea. C’mere.” He patted the cushion next to him.

Hesitantly, Bendy joined him, though he tried to sit much farther away than what Henry intended. Henry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll drag you over here myself, mister.”

Though he scooted closer, Bendy said, “You should be scared of me. I’m a monster.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Henry rolled his eyes, making sure Bendy was watching, and pulled him even closer, so Henry could hug him. Deadpan, he continued, “You’re real terrifying. Oh no, please, I’m so scared of you, because you risked yourself to save my life. How can I ever get over this fear.” 

Bendy laughed despite himself.

“So,” Henry said, “now that we’ve got the obvious reasons I’m not scared of you out of the way— why did you turn back? I think it’s because you’ve been ignoring this part of you since last night. Think of it like nightmares: you just keep having them, maybe even the same one, over and over again. Talking about them helps though, doesn’t it, because then you sorta get it outta your system, right?”

“My best chance at getting rid of the darned thing is talking about it?”

Sighing, Henry took hold of Bendy’s head, like he had the night before, and made sure Bendy was paying attention. “I don’t think this is something you can really get rid of, bud. I just— I don’t want _you_ to be afraid of this form. Y’know what I told that guy before I killed him? That you are not, have never been, and will never be a monster. I meant it just as much then as I do now.”

Gulping, Bendy asked, “But how can you be so sure?”

Henry thought about it for a moment. “Because looking like that doesn’t automatically make you a monster, Bendy. This form is a part of you, and it probably always will be; it’s a part that you decided you needed when I was in danger. Could something like that truly make you a monster if it saved my life?” 

Bendy slowly shook his head. He began to perk up. “All those cheesy movies were right. It’s who I am that matters, not what form I take.”

“Exactly. And if it helps at all, I rather like this form. It’s the first side of you I met, the first side I ever hugged, and yesterday, it became the side that stood between me and a bullet. Now, c’mere.” He got up, pulling Bendy after him, and led Bendy to their puppy-pile rug, sitting down in the middle. 

As Bendy settled, sort of curled around Henry and pretending like he wasn’t tearing up— thankfully not too difficult since the ink on his face covered his eyes— Henry continued, “I think we could all use some quality time together.” 

He winked at Bendy and cleared his throat. “Okay, guys. Very sneaky of you, but c’mon in,” Henry called to the hallway. “Time for a puppy pile.” 

The door swung open and everyone else fell into the room, like a cartoon comedy act. “How’d you know we were there?” someone asked as they all arranged themselves around Henry and Bendy. 

He smiled at them all— not even knowing that it was the bestest, most love filled, happy smile that any of them had ever seen— and winked. “We dads just know those sorts of things.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Two characters end up dead, one by Bendy, one by Henry— both of them tried to kill Henry first— and Henry really casually reasons out why he has to kill the second one.
> 
> Did I watch the new short and desperately need to give our lil tiny demon a happy snow experience? Yes. Yes I did. (Which means that the idea of the snowman scene does not belong to me and is also entirely the source of a lot of that extra wordage.)
> 
> Let me know what you thought, friends! :)


End file.
